


Testosterone Girls & Harlequin Boys

by jedusaur



Category: Bandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prison, F/F, F/M, M/M, Polyamory, Prison, Prison Sex, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-05
Updated: 2011-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 06:23:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedusaur/pseuds/jedusaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Most of us are pretty chill. It's not like this is one of those maximum-security prisons full of murderers and crack whores. Well," he amended, "Ryan's a little bit of a crack whore."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testosterone Girls & Harlequin Boys

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://lalejandra.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://lalejandra.livejournal.com/)**lalejandra** and I came up with the "Harlequin Boys" title independently, and I talked to her when she posted her fic recently to make sure she was okay with me using it. Normally I would have changed it to avoid confusion, but I've been building this fic around this title since early spring, and it just wouldn't work without it.
> 
> Thanks to [](http://crazybutsound.livejournal.com/profile)[**crazybutsound**](http://crazybutsound.livejournal.com/) and [](http://verbyna.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://verbyna.livejournal.com/)**verbyna** for cheerleading and alpha-reading.
> 
> For [](http://dear-monday.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dear-monday.livejournal.com/)**dear_monday** , my beta, artist, ass-kicker, Superwoman, and the reason this fic exists. All images are by her.

The first thing that happened to Pete in jail, after he was zipped into his orange jumpsuit and let out into the concrete yard, was Amanda.

"Hey, new kid," she said, twisting Pete's arm painfully behind his back. "What's your name?"

"Ow," said Pete. "I'm Pete. Could you please let go of me?"

"Sure." She dropped his arm and clapped him on the shoulder. "That was good, Pete. Stay polite and we won't have any trouble."

He rubbed his arm, shooting a dirty glance at her back as she walked over to one of the grimy plastic picnic tables dotting the yard. He'd seen enough movies to expect a pissing contest right off the bat, but he hadn't really expected the instigator to be a woman. Still, he'd stuck to the plan: roll over, wave his legs in the air, and try to look cute enough to avoid being kicked while he was down.

He was aware that this plan would most likely result in becoming a live Fleshlight for some tattooed behemoth named Massacre Bob, but he could live with that. It was better than trying to puff out his chest and look scary. Pete wasn't very good at scary.

"Hi," said a short guy with glasses, wandering up to him. "I'm Patrick."

"Don't hurt me," squeaked Pete.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. "Do I look like the class bully?"

"No, but neither did she," muttered Pete.

Patrick glanced in the direction of Pete's mutinous glare. "Oh, Amanda? Yeah, she feels like she has something to prove, I guess. Most of us are pretty chill. It's not like this is one of those maximum-security prisons full of murderers and crack whores. Well," he amended, "Ryan's a little bit of a crack whore. And I think Ray killed a termite once. Frank was mad at him for three days."

So maybe this place wouldn't be so bad, then, Pete was thinking, until Patrick steered him over to a large blond guy who looked capable of eating Pete for dinner and introduced him as Bob.

 _Massacre Bob._ Pete ran for his life.

***

LynZ watched Amanda terrorize the new guy, even though Amanda was only doing it so people would watch her. LynZ didn't mind playing into people's expectations, as long as she knew what she was doing and why. Her reasoning now was that prison was fucking boring, and she'd take any entertainment available. She'd been here for a month already, and in that time, exactly three interesting things had happened in front of her.

Her second day, someone had spat in the face of their correctional officer, Greta. Greta, who was normally fairly friendly to the inmates, had slammed the offender up against a wall, biceps bulging, and whipped out a pair of handcuffs in less than a second. It had been very educational for LynZ, who had still been in the process of putting together the power dynamics of prison life.

Two weeks later, Janelle had arrived, and Amanda had tried to pull her usual alpha-dog bullshit. The tiny woman had sauntered away from the encounter without a scratch, leaving Amanda flat on the concrete. The most interesting thing about that was that Amanda hadn't really been hurt, even though Janelle was clearly capable of doing some damage.

The most recent interesting thing that had happened, and the most promising, was a conversation with Gerard the truck driver. Gerard came every Thursday with a load of supplies for the prison, food and toilet paper and similar necessities. Women's Block C, LynZ's block, was tasked with unloading the truck every week. During Gerard's last visit, LynZ had gotten him talking about politics, and he had some views on the current state of the country's justice system that could prove extremely useful. She was waiting to see how that would play out.

Amanda hopped up on the picnic table next to LynZ, apparently successful in her mission to make the cowering guy across the courtyard piss his pants. "Show's over," she said, winking one browless eye at no one in particular.

"Hey, I want a show!" called Gabe from the next table over. "You're in for public nudity, right? Can I have some nudity too?"

Amanda leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. "Tell you what," she said. "Show me your dick, and I'll show you as much skin as I think it's worth."

Gabe happily began unzipping his jumpsuit. LynZ looked away. Gabe Saporta taking off his clothes was not interesting enough to earn her attention.

Amanda, who seemed to agree, snorted. "Hey, anybody got some gloves I could borrow?" she asked loudly. "I'm showing too much already!"

LynZ ignored both of them. There was a difference between potentially interesting attention-seeking behavior and chronically boring attention-seeking behavior, and these little tiffs happened in the yard all the time. She had more pressing things to think about.

Only eleven days left. She needed a plan.

***

Pete wasn't really supposed to be in here. He hadn't even known there was PCP in that weed. If anyone should have been in prison, it was Joe, for buying from untrustworthy sources. But Pete was a good guy, and he didn't have a job. He could afford to spend a couple months living off the generosity of the state. If Joe had gone to prison, he'd be out of his current job and unable to get another one. Pete wasn't too worried about that--he'd never managed to hold the kind of job that required a background check.

"Anyway, I've got Mikey," he finished, taking another bite of unidentifiable grey matter. "He'll take care of me."

Patrick waited expectantly, and Pete belatedly considered the possibility that prison might not be the most appropriate place to holler about his gay lover. Patrick seemed like he would probably be okay with it, though. "Mikey's my boyfriend," Pete clarified in a much quieter voice.

Patrick nodded, unfazed. He had already finished his plate of slop, but didn't seem to mind waiting around for Pete to choke down his. They all had to leave the dining hall at the same time, anyway.

"So what are you in for?" Pete asked, fully aware of how silly he sounded.

"Um." Patrick blushed. "Traffic violations."

Pete's eyes widened. "They actually throw you in prison for that?" he said. "I thought that was just a scare tactic."

Patrick's blush deepened. "It usually is? But it wasn't my first strike, and I wasn't very graceful about accepting the fines. His nose _did_ look like a mutated potato," he added defensively.

Pete burst out laughing. "Nice, dude," he said between giggles.

"I'm not the stupidest one in this place by a long shot, though," said Patrick. "That honor has to go to Gabe. He's here because he got drunk and tried to steal a park bench. It wasn't planned or anything, he didn't even have a wrench, he just went to town on it with a Swiss army knife."

"And they caught him redhanded?"

"No, that's the best part. He actually managed to unscrew the bolts and carry it off without anyone stopping him. He only got caught because he tried to take it home on the subway."

Pete stared at Gabe with new respect. He couldn't help but admire that level of brazen idiocy. Pete himself was something of a connoisseur of drunken antics, and had spent many parties bragging about his own stunts, but that one beat them all. He almost wanted to apprentice himself to the man.

"What about the women?" he asked, glancing over to the self-segregated female tables. "Why is Amanda here?"

"Amanda is here because she likes to express herself artistically by being naked," said Patrick. "I think LynZ is in for some kind of radical activism. The rest of them, I'm not sure. They don't talk to me much, and I try not to bother them. Most of them could fuck me up."

Pete grinned. "So I'm not gonna get picked on for losing a fight to a girl?"

"I think you have to actually fight back for it to count as a fight," said Patrick wryly. "Nah, you might get teased if it were Ashlee or somebody, but no one's gonna judge you for backing down from Amanda. She's the toughest lady in here except for Janelle." His eyes flitted over to a small woman with her hair in a poofy pompadour that looked vaguely ridiculous to Pete.

Patrick didn't look like he thought it was ridiculous at all. "No one gives Janelle shit," he said, gazing at her adoringly. "She never picks fights, but if someone else starts one, she wins. She's really nice, too."

"I thought you said the women don't talk to you much?" asked Pete.

"They don't." Patrick looked down at the table sadly.

A tall, broad-shouldered black guy slouched by with a tray, walking like his hips were used to baggy jeans. He caught Pete staring and sent him a withering glare. Pete tried not to quiver too obviously. "What did he do?" he whispered when they guy had moved on.

Patrick glanced after him. "Who, Travie? Corporate financial fraud."

Pete's eyebrows shot up. "Him?"

"Yeah. He worked at an insurance company. Helped people get bogus claims approved and split the take. He stole a whole lot of money, I heard. I guess he wanted to be a billionaire."

"Must've wanted it pretty bad." Pete shoved his plate away. "Okay, I can't convince my system that this is actual food. Maybe it'll reconsider tomorrow when it hasn't gotten anything else."

***

LynZ's cellmate for her first month, Kitty, had just been released. LynZ had learned a lot from Kitty, and they planned to stay in touch, but it was nice to have the limited space to herself. Unfortunately, it seemed that her luck was to be shortlived.

The bars rattled an hour before bedtime, and she lifted her head to see Greta ushering Amanda into the cell. "I've got a pal for you," said Greta, who was possibly the only prison guard in the world who could utter that sentence without it sounding condescending.

"It doesn't make sense," protested Amanda. "You have two cells and two people, and instead of giving one cell to each person, you put them both in one and leave the other one empty? Why?"

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your comfort is not our top priority," said Greta cheerfully. She locked the door behind Amanda and strode away down the hall, whistling Cee Lo's "Fuck You."

Amanda sat down on the empty cot and started taking off her shoes. When she was barefoot, she rolled up the legs of her jumpsuit and propped herself up against the wall, knees splayed wide. Her legs weren't shaved. Most of the women here didn't bother. Being given a razor meant having your shower observed, which was never much fun, and it wasn't like anyone could see their legs with the jumpsuits on.

Well, everyone could see Amanda's legs, but that was because she wouldn't let them look away. Amanda didn't shave anything but her eyebrows. LynZ had spent enough time around other artists to know that it was a statement. By keeping her eyebrows immaculately smooth, Amanda was saying that her hairy legs and underarms weren't symptoms of laziness. She was saying that refraining from shaving was a choice.

"I have charcoals and pastels," said LynZ. "They let me have them so I can draw. You can use them as makeup if you like."

"You think I need makeup?" Amanda demanded.

LynZ didn't rise to the bait. "I saw the newspaper articles about you when you got arrested," she said. Climbing on the Lincoln Memorial nude was the sort of thing that caught the media's eye. "In all the photos, your eyebrows were drawn on."

Amanda didn't answer. She was uncharacteristically quiet that whole evening. LynZ had expected her to be an annoying cellmate, but apparently she was only a pain in the ass in public. On reflection, this was not terribly surprising.

In the morning, when LynZ offered her the box of art supplies, she said, "You want to draw something on me? That mirror's a piece of shit, I can't see what I'm doing."

LynZ sketched a high curved line above Amanda's right eye in brown, and some iridescent bubbles rising from her left eye across her forehead in blue with tinges of green and purple. It suited her well, LynZ thought.

Amanda smiled like she'd been given a present.

***

Pete's cellmate turned out to be the boy Patrick had specified as the exception to the prison's no-crack-whores rule. He was young and meek, and didn't say a single word to Pete except his name when Pete asked for it. Pete was starting to think Patrick was full of crap.

Then the lights went out and Ryan whispered from his cot, "Can I suck you off?"

Clearly, Patrick was a man to be trusted. "Um," said Pete intelligently. "If you're trying to get something out of me, you're wasting your time. I don't have any drugs or anything."

"That's okay," said Ryan. His sheets rustled and he appeared next to Pete, on his knees. He started to tug down Pete's thin blanket.

"I have a boyfriend," said Pete. "He's waiting for me."

"So?"

"So... no thank you?" Pete winced, wishing it hadn't sounded like so much of a question. He definitely wasn't going to take Ryan up on his offer. Mikey was the best boyfriend in the universe. Pete could go without sex for two months for him, no problem.

Ryan trailed his fingers across Pete's thigh. "Come on," he whispered. "I promise I won't tell."

Pete gingerly removed the hand. "I'm good," he said more firmly. "I've had dry spells a lot longer than two months, believe me. Thanks, though, very sweet of you. I appreciate it."

There was a long silence. Pete got the uncomfortable impression that Ryan was peering at his crotch, trying to determine whether he had enough of an erection to be worth pressing further. He did have a bit of one, but that was just a natural physiological reaction to the general idea of blowjobs. It wasn't his fault.

Pete pulled the blanket back up. "Go back to bed, please," he said. Ryan went immediately, before he even got to "please."

Pete had come here fully prepared to become somebody's bitch. It hadn't occurred to him that he might acquire one himself, without his consent. He wriggled to face the wall, trying not to listen too hard to Ryan's breathing. He did not at all want to know what was going on in the other cot.

***

"We've just completely lost sight of the point, the purpose of having a prison system in the first place. It's not about punishment, that's not the eventual goal. The long-term goal is--or _should_ be, that's the whole problem, it _isn't_ \--to stop these things from happening again. Punishment isn't an end, it's a means to an end, and that end is--or, like I said, _should_ be--to build a low-crime society. Prison is supposed to be a deterrent from repeating the crime."

Gerard was waving his arms around enthusiastically and completely failing to help unload the truck. He didn't technically have to help, but he usually did, so he was getting some dirty looks from the other inmates. LynZ, however, was not giving him dirty looks at all. She suspected, in fact, that her expression was a little too eager, and she was trying to dial it down a little. It was difficult to manage. Gerard was fulfilling her hopes beautifully.

"Instead it's become this _assembly line_ , this whole system of shoving people in and out of prisons without focusing on that greater purpose, and what you get after decades and centuries of that is a system that's fucking broken. Prison as a concept isn't present enough in the minds of the general public for it to function as an effective deterrent to people who haven't been there, and people who _have_ been there know that a) it doesn't do what it's supposed to do and b) it's actually not that bad! Like, compared to some of the shit people go through on a daily basis on the streets or even employed at shitty minimum-wage jobs, with all the stress and responsibility that goes along with that, prison is a fucking hotel. So you get people _trying_ to get sent there, actively trying to get incarcerated because to them it's a, a reward, it's a desirable thing. For those people, it's not only failing to serve its purpose, it's actually working to undermine that purpose."

Gerard followed LynZ back and forth across the bed of the truck, ranting continuously as she worked. She focused on unloading enough that no one would get mad at her for not pulling her weight, but she was looking at him the whole time, encouraging him with nods and quiet grunts of agreement.

"And that's not even touching the whole issue of the laws that get people sent to prison in the first place. A prison like this one, where everyone's in here for stupid bullshit like insulting a police officer, a place like this is even _more_ counterproductive to the whole purpose of building a better society. The people in here know they don't really belong in jail, because jail is for people who have actually committed serious crimes. When people come out of a prison like this, they don't come out repentant and ready to contribute to society, they come out resentful and ready to fuck over the government in as many ways as they possibly can. How is that productive? How is that a good use of taxpayers' money?"

LynZ picked up a giant box of instant mashed potatoes and passed it down off the truck, still nodding, not taking her eyes off Gerard.

"The whole system needs to be overhauled. We need to just start over, start with what we understand about criminal psychology and work to build a system that actually does what it's supposed to do. And no one's going to do that because it's just easier to leave things the way they are. Even though it's terribly broken, no one wants to try to fix it. People don't pay attention, they don't care. They need a fucking wake-up call."

There it was, the perfect cue. "Like what?"

"Like a fucking mass breakout or some shit. Like something that will bring prison culture to the awareness of the voters who can do something about it."

Lynz turned away from the boxes and folded her arms, challenging. "You're not one of those people, are you?" she asked seriously. "You're not someone who's going to sit around doing nothing. You care. If you could do something about this, you'd fucking do it."

"Yeah!" Gerard said. "Yeah, I'd fucking do it!"

"You're a good citizen, Gerard," LynZ said quietly. "Listen to me."

Nine days to go. She might actually make it.

***

"Christ, it is so fucking good to see you, Mikeyway," Pete sighed into the phone before he even sat down.

On the other side of the thick fiberglass partition, Mikey smiled almost imperceptibly. "You okay? Have you been anally claimed by Massacre Bob yet?" (Pete had loudly shared his theories about prison life before his actual incarceration.)

Pete shook his head gloomily. "It's boring as balls in here. Oh, except I got totally owned by this badass chick with no eyebrows, and my roomie keeps trying to give me blowjobs."

Mikey's expression didn't change, but then Mikey's expression never really changed much. "Yeah? Is he cute?"

"Fucking adorable. There must've been a paperwork mixup, I think he's supposed to be in juvie." Pete touched his fingertips to the clear partition. "How are you doing, Mikey? I miss you."

He did miss Mikey, desperately. Pete was pretty good at adapting, and he'd been in some situations far less pleasant than this one. At least in prison he was fed, albeit not grandly, and there were people to talk to. Patrick was pretty great, and Bob had actually turned out to be cool too, once Pete had stopped hiding from him. But he'd been spoiled. For the last few years, he'd had Mikey. No one could possibly be happy without Mikey once they'd had him for that long.

"I'm fine," said Mikey. He touched his fingers to the fiberglass, too. Pete could see smeared fingerprints where other people had done the same thing. "I miss you too, Pete. It's too fucking quiet without you in the house."

"I should've recorded a few shitty bass tracks for you," joked Pete. "You could play them on repeat fifty zillion times and pretend I'm in the other room practicing."

Mikey's lips quirked. "I would, too," he said. "I would play them all the time, I'm not even kidding."

Pete tried not to tear up. He was only in here for two months, for fuck's sake. It wasn't that long. "I'll be back soon," he said. "I'm being good, I won't give them any reason to keep me."

He told Mikey about Patrick's crush on the most badass chick in the clink, and he told the story of Gabe and the park bench, and he listened to Mikey talk about a movie Pete wouldn't be able to see until he got out, and then their time was up. It hadn't seemed long enough at all. Pete was already freaking out a little about how long it would be until Mikey came back.

"Hey," said Mikey suddenly, right as he was getting up. "Do you have a way to tell time in there?"

"Not really," said Pete. "I don't have a watch or anything. They do everything on a schedule, though. Dinner's at seven, lights out at ten, that kind of thing."

Mikey lowered his voice. "Start counting when the lights go out tomorrow night. Count two minutes, then let that kid blow you."

"What," said Pete.

"I'll jerk off at the same time," murmured Mikey. "I'll think about blowing you, and you can pretend it's me. It'll be almost like phone sex. Okay?"

"I," said Pete.

"Time's up," said Brian, the guard in charge of the prisoners' side of the partitions during visitors' hours. "Let's go."

"Okay?" said Mikey insistently.

"Um," said Pete. "Okay."

Best boyfriend in the _universe._

***

Amanda got into another fight with Janelle, because Amanda had some kind of death wish. Janelle hadn't lost a fight since she got here, and that included the time Gabe had ambushed her in the dining hall when she was drinking hot coffee. Janelle had brought him down without spilling a drop. LynZ hadn't seen it, but she wished she had.

She'd drawn a snake on Amanda's face that day, a curling unibrow of a serpent, head rearing up on her forehead and tail lingering along her jaw. Amanda stood up straighter with it there, carried herself more gracefully than usual. In the yard, she walked up to Janelle like she was balancing a stack of books on her head and punched her in the face.

She tried to, anyway. Janelle saw it coming and dodged the swing easily. She didn't say anything--she never did when people were picking fights--but her expression clearly asked what the hell was wrong with Amanda. LynZ didn't know the answer to that question. She'd thought she understood Amanda, but since they'd been in the same cell, she wasn't so sure. Amanda took off her persona at night, and she seemed exhausted when she did, like it was something she wore because she had to. It intrigued LynZ. She liked to know how people worked.

Janelle ducked another punch and dropped to the concrete. She was still supported by her hands and feet, but crouching almost flat, her torso grazing the ground. She twisted and kicked, and then she was on her feet and Amanda was on her back.

Janelle didn't jump on her, didn't plant a foot on her chest and raise her arms in victory like Amanda did when she won fights with the boys. Janelle just backed away and waited for Amanda to lift herself up and come back for more. Which Amanda did, of course, because Amanda never gave up when people were watching.

"Catfight!" hollered Gabe from the sidelines. He was wearing a baseball cap sideways, presumably in case the hollering wasn't enough to establish him as a douche. "Somebody find some mud, it's time for bikini wrestling!"

Janelle sidestepped Amanda, turned, delivered a solid roundhouse kick to Gabe's gut, and spun back around in time to knock Amanda's fist out of the way. Gabe doubled over with a grunt, and came after Janelle as soon as he'd caught his breath enough to move.

LynZ watched, thoroughly impressed. It wasn't just that Janelle was fighting two people at once, both of whom were significantly larger than she was, although that was definitely impressive by itself. But it wasn't all; she was fighting them in different styles, switching seamlessly back and forth. She was fighting defensively against Amanda, avoiding her blows without returning them, but with Gabe she was aiming to injure. Gabe kept coming back because he was a stubborn bastard, but Amanda kept coming back because she wasn't actually hurt. It was fascinating.

After the fight was over, when Janelle had indisputably defeated both her attackers, LynZ pointed this out to Amanda.

"I know," said Amanda simply. "She gets it."

LynZ wasn't sure _she_ got it. Or, really, that Amanda did. "What?"

"That it's a performance." Amanda smiled. Her snake tail was smeared all over her cheek, but the head was still there on her forehead, baring its teeth in an echo of the dangerous expression beneath it. "Gabe gets what he deserves. I get what I ask for."

That night, LynZ told Amanda about the plan. Amanda could get the other women of Block C on board. And she was just smart enough to understand why it was going to work, but just reckless enough not to understand why it wouldn't, which was perfect. No one needed to know about that part except LynZ.

Six more days. LynZ was ready.

***

"Did you fucking _see_ her?" Patrick demanded for at least the fourteenth time. "He just, and bam!" He reenacted Gabe's entrance to the melee with amusing accuracy.

"Dude," said Pete. "If you like her, why don't you just talk to her?"

Patrick stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jumpsuit. "It's not that simple."

"It totally is. She's not gonna pummel you into the dirt for saying hello. She's probably more weirded out by you staring at her all the time and never talking to her than she would be if you introduced yourself."

"Oh hey, dinnertime's over," Patrick said loudly and hurried to get in line to leave.

Ryan was already reading on his cot when Pete got back to his cell. Ryan read a lot. Pete had looked through the prison library, but there weren't any comic books or trashy romance novels, so he hadn't checked anything out. Ryan seemed perfectly happy with the selection, though; Pete had seen him reading The Scarlet Letter, Origin of Species, and Plato's Apology. It wasn't the sort of thing he would have expected from someone so eager to hand out blowjobs, but it was always good to be reminded not to jump to conclusions. Making assumptions was rarely helpful and always a dick move, Mikey had once said. Pete liked that way of putting it better than the stupid "ass of U and me" adage.

Pete spent the next two hours making up an epic poem in his head. It was like something by Homer, if Homer had written about machine guns and robots. He wished he had some paper to write it down. He wished he'd taken out one of the non-trashy novels in the prison library, or that he had anything else at all to do.

"Oh man," he said suddenly, "you know what I want? A Tamagotchi."

Ryan looked up from his book.

"Just 'cause it's so boring in here," Pete explained. "I know they wouldn't let me have a real pet, but maybe if I had Mikey find one of those little digital pets, they'd let him give it to me. I could feed it and play with it and clean up its poop. I have so much free time in here, it would never ever die. I'd have an immortal fish or whatever they're supposed to be."

Ryan blinked.

"Sorry," said Pete. "I didn't mean to distract you from your book."

"It's okay," Ryan said, unexpectedly, since he hadn't spoken a word to Pete since that first night. "I like hearing you talk."

"Oh," said Pete, surprised. He usually found it difficult to shut up, but being given permission like that somehow shut off the babbling.

"You could name it Utnapishtim," said Ryan. Pete wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "The Tamagotchi," Ryan clarified. "You could name it after the flood hero in the Epic of Gilgamesh. He was one of the earliest examples of immortal characters in fiction."

Pete had only vaguely heard of Gilgamesh, and he couldn't even pronounce Utnawhatever. "Totally," he agreed.

Ryan picked up the tissue he'd been using as a bookmark and closed his book around it. He turned onto his side, pillowing his head on one arm, and fixed Pete with a steady stare.

"So how come you're here?" Pete asked. It wasn't the smoothest of transitions, but it seemed to be a common conversation starter among inmates, and he sure as hell did not have any further insight to offer into the Epic of Gilgamesh.

"I like cock," said Ryan. "A lot."

Pete swallowed nervously. "What, you were giving blowjobs in public or something?"

Ryan shook his head. "I offered to blow a cop. He arrested me for prostitution. I never asked the asshole for any money." He looked kind of wistful. "Just because sucking cock turns me on and I have a kink for making people happy, I'm a criminal. I don't get it. Society should value people like me."

Pete cleared his throat. "Um. I should probably mention that my boyfriend gave me the go-ahead, if you still want--"

Ryan's head snapped up. "Jesus, way to bury the fucking lead!"

"Just tonight," Pete hurried to add. "Mikey wants me to pretend it's him. Is that, I mean..."

"It's fine," said Ryan. He licked his lips, gaze lingering on Pete's crotch, and Pete felt his blood start rushing downwards.

It seemed like forever until the lights went out, although it couldn't have been more than ten minutes later. The second it went dark, Ryan was there, grasping at Pete's zipper.

Pete laid a hand on his, stopping him. "Two minutes," he whispered. Ryan drew both their hands to his mouth and sucked in two of Pete's fingers. Pete shuddered, trying to focus on counting. Ryan thrust Pete's fingers deep down his throat and clenched his muscles around them, and Pete almost lost count. "Fifty-seven, fuck," he whispered.

Ryan started unzipping him again, and this time Pete let him. He leaned his shoulders back against the wall, hips at the edge of his cot, knees straddling Ryan's head. Ryan waited, breath hot on Pete's cock, for him to reach two minutes. He was panting already, and the second Pete said "okay," Ryan was on him, swallowing him down so far there was no way he could breathe.

Pete thought of Mikey, of Mikey's hand around his cock, of Mikey thinking of him. Mikey, right now, hard and moaning--Mikey made a lot of noise during sex, he must be loud when he touched himself too. Pete thrust into the tight heat of Ryan's throat and thought of Mikey, and he hadn't come in days and Ryan was fucking _good_ at this. He tried to last, because Mikey wouldn't be coming so soon, but Ryan was gulping down his cock like he wasn't going to breathe until Pete came, and it was just too damn hot to hold out.

"Fuck, Mikey," he gasped as he pulsed into Ryan's mouth.

Ryan swallowed every drop of come and pulled off reluctantly, mouthing at Pete's softening dick like a goodbye. "Thanks," he whispered.

"No, dude, thank you," mumbled Pete, still in shock from the intensity of his orgasm. "Do you want me to do you?" Mikey hadn't said anything about Ryan coming, but it was only common courtesy, since he'd basically used the kid.

"I'm already done." Ryan zipped his jumpsuit back up. Pete hadn't even noticed him unzipping it.

"Damn." Pete suppressed the urge to whistle. "You're not kidding about liking to suck cock."

"No." Ryan got up from the floor. "Let me know if you guys want me again."

 _You guys._ Ryan got it, that it wasn't cheating, that Mikey had been part of it even if he wasn't there. Pete felt a pang of gratitude, and another one of guilt, because even if there was no doubt that Mikey had been part of it, it wasn't clear whether Ryan had.

Well, at least Ryan didn't seem to mind. If he just wanted something to suck, it didn't matter in the end.

***

Long after the lights had gone out, when LynZ was almost asleep, Amanda said, "Gerard is a good guy, you know."

LynZ rolled over to face her. It had been dark long enough that her eyes had adapted, and she could see Amanda's face in shadows and contrasts. It was serious; not the mock-serious expression she used when she was stirring up shit, but actually serious, like she was saying something important.

"I know," said LynZ warily.

"He thinks he's doing this for the greater good," said Amanda. "He's probably going to lose his job and end up someplace like this or worse, and he knows that, and he's doing it anyway. Because he believes that change requires sacrifice." Her mouth was thin when she paused, lips clamped tight. "Most of these girls aren't going to make it out there. They'll end up back behind bars, in worse prisons for longer sentences because of this escape attempt. And you know that."

Shit. So maybe Amanda's sense outweighed her crazy after all. This could be bad.

"I don't know why you're risking so much just to get out of another few months of time," Amanda said quietly. "But you're not doing it for the reasons you say you are. You're manipulating Gerard. You're manipulating the rest of them through me, and you think you're manipulating me too. It's sneaky and I don't respect it."

Well, if Amanda wanted her to stop sneaking and be frank, LynZ could do that. "I don't trust you," she said bluntly. "There's more to it than you know, but I'm not going to tell you."

Amanda was silent for a long time.

Finally, she said, "Some people think the shit I pull is stupid, because they don't understand why I'm doing it. Their minds can't process the concept of an entire life lived with the sole purpose of making others think. But sometimes they go along with it and support it, usually when it's bringing in money. We can use the same means to different ends."

Four days, thought LynZ, and: "Yeah."

***

There was a tiny sliver of shade in the back corner of the yard, where the wall cast a tantalizing glimmer of a shadow. Pete attempted to jam his entire body into it. He only managed half a shoulder and one eye, but it was better than nothing. Totally worth the migraine he was going to have later from shoving his head into a concrete corner.

Patrick lounged against the wall next to him, stealing peeks at the opposite corner where Janelle and Travie were practicing some kind of dance routine. "They're doing hip-hop moves in 6/8 time," he commented, squinting at them critically. "What the hell? Are they trying to invent rap polka?"

Pete ground his skull into the wall. Maybe if he rubbed off some of his scalp, both his eyes would fit in the shade at the same time.

"Okay, no, the 6/8 time is just Travie. That's why they're not meshing. What is he even trying to do?"

The sun was now high enough in the sky that the shade was virtually gone. Pete gave up, sighing dramatically. A parasol, that was what he needed, a pretty little lace umbrella to block out the sun's harsh rays. It wasn't like he had much of a masculine reputation to ruin.

"You're right," said Patrick suddenly. "I should just go talk to her. Damn, he's getting it all _wrong._ " He hopped to his feet and tromped off determinedly.

Pete belatedly tuned into the conversation. "What? No, dude, maybe you should wait until she's not with--" but Patrick was already gone. Pete pouted. He liked Patrick, and was not looking forward to watching him get flattened to a pulp for trying to steal a gangster's lady.

He pulled his bangs out straight, trying to make a sunshade out of his hair. It worked surprisingly well. Hah, thought Pete triumphantly, internally laying down the last word of an argument he'd had with Joe six weeks earlier about his emo swoop. He'd have to remember when he got out to add this to his impassioned tonsorial defense. "Fuck you, Trohman," he practiced under his breath. "This hairstyle saved me from heatstroke back in the slammer in aught-ten. Better for prison survival than a shiv, motherfucker. In fact, give her enough gel and this baby could _be_ a shiv."

He was getting some weird looks from people near enough to see his lips moving, so he stopped muttering to himself like a crazy person and looked over to see how Patrick was faring.

Astonishingly, Travie had not yet squished him like a bug. In fact, he appeared to be taking Patrick's advice. Patrick was sitting cross-legged and slapping a beat against his knee, gesticulating with the other, while Janelle and Travie did something that looked a lot smoother than whatever they'd been doing earlier.

As Pete watched, Travie grabbed Patrick's hand and tried to pull him up. Patrick resisted, but stood up when Janelle joined in the pulling, either because he gave in or because she was significantly stronger than him. They positioned him between them and started showing him how to do some kind of footwork that looked sort of like the Wave, from what Pete could see.

 _Rarely helpful and always a dick move_ , echoed Mikey's voice in Pete's head.

***

The first problem with the escape was the utterly random presence of a boy from Men's Block A.

"What the asscrack is _he_ doing here?" Amanda asked Greta, who had just escorted the kid into the loading bay.

Greta gave him a friendly shove, sending him stumbling into the group of unimpressed women. "Ryan here got in some trouble the other day. His penance is helping you ladies out with today's truck. Don't be too mean to him, he looks pretty fragile."

LynZ sized him up thoroughly, and eventually decided that he shouldn't be too much of a problem, as long as Amanda followed through on that menacing glint in her eye. Fortunately, Ryan made it easy for her. "Why are there gears and shit all over your face?" he asked, gesturing to LynZ's most recent artwork.

Amanda took him by the wrist. It didn't look like she was holding him too tightly, but the sound he choked back indicated otherwise. "Listen, kid," she said in a low voice. "We work as a team around here. If you're gonna be part of the team, you're gonna do what I say, when I say it, or there's gonna be pain. Got it?"

Ryan nodded resignedly. He clearly thought she was just pulling her usual power plays over a few boxes. LynZ hid her smile and relegated him to her peripheral awareness, ready to deal with him if he became a problem but focusing her attention on more important things. Like the truck that was currently backing into the docking area.

"Hey, guys," Gerard greeted them as he hopped down from the cab and climbed up onto the concrete ledge to open the back. He was vibrating a little, but he looked calm enough to function. No one who didn't notice things the way LynZ did would have seen anything out of the ordinary.

The unloading process seemed to take about half the usual time, even though the load was a fairly large one and they were carrying the boxes further than they normally did. They generally unloaded everything out of the truck first, then carried the boxes into the supply areas later. Today, they took everything straight inside. Technically, Greta was supposed to be overseeing them, but she didn't always stick around the whole time. They had the routine down by now, and Gerard was there to keep an eye on them, so Greta usually did paperwork in the office until Gerard knocked. LynZ was banking on that.

Almost too soon, the boxes were all unloaded and inside. The whole group hesitated for a split second, knowing this was the point of no return, but this was why LynZ had brought Amanda on board.

Amanda stepped into the truck and motioned to the people behind her, and she made it look so easy that everyone followed, sitting on the floor around the edge of the truck bed. Gerard closed the back door, and everything went pitch black. The chains on the handle rattled as he snicked the padlock into place.

"Wait," said Ryan. "What?"

"Shut the hell up or I will choke you on your own femur," Amanda hissed, and there was silence.

LynZ was sitting between the door and Amanda. Her heart was beating hard, but she felt present enough to deal with anything that came up inside the truck. She was pretty sure nothing was going to happen there. Amanda had adequately cowed the kid, and the rest of them were prepared, or as prepared as they could be. Anything that happened outside the truck was out of her control now.

She heard a knock, and the sound of the office door opening. "What'd you do with the rabble?" asked Greta. She didn't sound suspicious, just bored.

"I've got them opening boxes inside," Gerard said. LynZ had told him not to be too specific about where, so as to delay discovery as long as possible. "It'll be a while, it's a big shipment. Need your autograph on this."

There was a pause, then Greta said, "Here you go. Same time next week?"

"You got it." Gerard's footsteps circled around them, and the truck shook a little as he climbed into the cab. As he turned on the ignition, LynZ felt a hand against her breast. Jesus. Even in the middle of a major escape operation, Amanda just had to be the center of attention. LynZ ignored it.

Amanda's fingers hooked into LynZ's zipper and slowly dragged it down.

The truck started to move. LynZ closed her eyes, although it didn't change anything in the dark, and imagined the route Gerard would be taking out of the prison complex. The truck made a wide right turn. They'd be rounding the edge of the outer wall of the exercise yard now. It was strange to think of the yard having an outer wall, and even stranger to think of herself as being on the other side of it.

Amanda's hand slid into the folds of LynZ's jumpsuit, under the waistband of her government-issue granny panties.

Fuck it. LynZ hadn't gotten laid in a long time, and getting Amanda to stop could be disruptive and risky. She spread her thighs, one knee digging into the metal door and the other into Amanda's leg, giving access and implicit permission. Amanda's fingers delved deeper, brushing lightly over LynZ's pubic hair before pressing firmly in. LynZ bit her lip, even though she knew she wouldn't make any noise. This escape was too important to let herself lose control. Only two more days. She wouldn't get another chance.

The truck rumbled to a stop. LynZ caught her breath. It hadn't been long enough for them to be out yet; Gerard must have been stopped at the gate. Had Greta found them missing and called through to perimeter security?

"Hey, Gerard," said a deep male voice. "Sorry, management has been cracking down on protocol violations. Gotta check the back."

LynZ froze.

"Aw, shit, Zack, I already chained everything up. I'm gonna be late, my boss will kill me if I don't get this rig back by five. Can you start the crackdown next week, pretty please?"

LynZ's whole world hesitated, except for Amanda's fingers, fucking into her with the tips and pinching her clit between the bases.

"Okay, but you owe me," said Zack. The truck revved up again, the gate clinked open, and LynZ came out of sheer relief.

***

Pete was not entirely sure what exactly had gone down, but the upshot seemed to be that Patrick had been once again right: in terms of security, this place was not exactly Guantanamo Bay.

He hadn't been all that surprised to discover that he wasn't the only person taking advantage of Ryan's blowjob obsession. Brian the security guard had been caught with his pants down, and Ryan had been sentenced to work with one of the women's blocks for a day. Apparently he'd chosen a good day to be punished. It was a much better story than anything else that had happened in prison so far, and Pete was brimming over with it the minute Mikey sat down for their weekly visit.

"I know," said Mikey.

Pete stopped short. "You do? Has it been in the news?" Mikey didn't follow the news much, as far as he knew.

"I dunno," said Mikey. "All I know is I came home from work on Friday and some kid was sitting on the back porch in his underwear. He said he was looking for the guy whose name you moan when you come."

Pete dropped his forehead onto his arm before abruptly realizing that he shouldn't be drawing attention to their conversation. "Jesus Christ," he muttered. "What did you do?"

"I said that was probably me and let him in."

"Mikey!" Pete hissed. "You're _harboring_ a _fugitive_!"

Mikey shrugged. "You were right, he's fucking adorable. Couldn't resist the puppy eyes. Anyway, I wasn't gonna leave the poor guy on the street with no clothes."

Something occurred to Pete suddenly. "Wait, how did he find you? I didn't even tell him your last name."

"Yeah, that's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. You know they escaped in a supply truck?" Pete nodded. "Well... my brother was driving it."

"Holy shit."

"Now he's been fired, and he's probably going to jail too, because nobody believes that he could have shut the back door of the truck without noticing it was filled with people." Mikey sighed.

"I would believe that Gerard could have done that," said Pete. Gerard's obliviousness approached superpower levels at times.

"Yeah, well, he didn't. He was trying to shake up society and make a difference or some shit, and now he's in major trouble."

Pete squinched his lips to one side. "Well, if we're already harboring one fugitive, we could let him stay with us?"

"No, they'd look for him at my place. And he doesn't want help, anyway. Stupid asshole." Mikey rested his chin in one hand. After a minute of silence, he said, "Ryan won't stop offering me blowjobs."

Pete stifled a snort. "Have you taken him up on it?"

"Not yet." Mikey eyed him carefully through the fiberglass. "I wanted to talk to you first."

"I'd be a hell of a hypocrite if I tried to say you couldn't," said Pete. "Anyway, it's pretty much impossible to stop him if he knows you want it. The kid is like a semen vampire, it's his fucking lifeblood or something. Enjoy."

Mikey's lips twitched. "Will do. Oh..." He reached in his pocket. "I don't know if they'll let you have this, since it's got electronic parts and stuff, but Ryan said to try." He held up a keychain. There was a little pink and white Tamagotchi dangling from it, with Sharpied block letters on the back spelling out UTNAPISHTIM.

The escape had hiked the security paranoia up to eleven, so Pete wasn't allowed to take the toy, but just seeing it and knowing that Ryan had remembered made him stupidly happy. Mikey took it with him, promising to keep it safe until Pete got out. Pete didn't stop grinning for hours after he left.

***

Somehow, LynZ had piqued Amanda's curiosity. Amanda's curiosity, it turned out, was a powerful thing.

This hadn't been part of the plan. Harrowing as the escape had been, LynZ knew it wasn't even close to the end for her. This was the easy part, the short stretch of time between them losing her and them realizing they wanted to keep her. Right now, she was still a petty criminal, and she didn't matter. She wanted to use that time to fall beneath the radar, to disappear as completely as she could before they started looking.

Having Amanda with her was not conducive to discretion.

LynZ wasn't asking her to stay away from the windows entirely. All she wanted was for Amanda to change out of the jumpsuit first. That was all she asked. But no, Amanda needed to make a _statement._

"Can you make your statement somewhere else?" LynZ requested. "I respect your right to get thrown back into prison, but I'd really prefer it if you didn't take me with you."

They were at Kitty's, for now. LynZ intended to get away from the area soon, but Gerard had offered to drive them wherever they wanted to go, and she hadn't been able to resist the allure of certain comfort, however brief. Kitty hadn't known about the breakout plan when she'd been released, but she had given LynZ her address and told her to use it if she needed it, and she needed it now.

She'd tried to get rid of Amanda first, but Amanda was intent on dispelling LynZ's unintentional air of mystery, and wouldn't leave. Kitty had unwittingly let them both into her apartment, and that was it. Amanda was like cayenne pepper in cookie dough--once she settled in, nothing could get her out.

LynZ had meant to start hitchhiking immediately, but hitchhiking with an orange-jumpsuited Amanda tagging along would be suicide. "Seriously," said LynZ when Amanda opened the blinds for the fourth time to look out at the street. LynZ came up behind her and closed them for the fifth time. "What is your deal?"

"I'll tell you my deal if you tell me yours," said Amanda and opened the blinds again.

LynZ sighed and left them.

***

Three days after the breakout, Travie got a call from Janelle, pretending to be his sister. Pete, who had never exchanged a single word with either of them, only knew this because Patrick told him all about it in the exercise yard.

"They're gonna meet up when Travie gets out," Patrick said. "He's got another year left. But I'm being released in two weeks, and he says she wants to see me then."

"How does this whole thing work?" Pete asked. If Patrick was in a sharing mood, he was allowed to be nosy. "Are you guys in some kind of three-way relationship?"

Patrick shook his head. "It's not like that with me and Travie. It's not even like that with me and Janelle, yet, but she says she thinks there could be something there." He was getting that woozy look in his eyes again. "They're just so honest about everything. There's no drama, no bullshit. Janelle and Travie are together, and she and I are both interested in getting to know each other and maybe getting together too, and Travie's fine with that. And I know all this because we just _said_ it flat-out, without having to guess."

Well... huh.

Pete was actually pretty okay with drama, to a certain extent. He liked excitement in his life. But it hadn't really occurred to him that it was possible for three people to settle into an arrangement like this so easily. He suspected it wouldn't actually be as easy in practice as Patrick implied, especially considering the part where Travie would still be in prison, but still. Huh.

***

LynZ was in the middle of eating a peanut butter sandwich on Kitty's living room floor when the news channels started reporting on it. Kitty was at her shitty post-prison retail job and Amanda was in the shower. LynZ was all alone with the television. She dropped her sandwich and stared at the screen, rapt, waiting for the important part...

" _There were no fatalities, but three people sustained injuries and the blast demolished a significant..._ "

There it was. She let out a breath. No fatalities. She wasn't sure if she was more disappointed or relieved.

Amanda stepped out of the hall, rubbing herself down with a towel. She took in LynZ's expression and the sandwich, sitting on the coffee table three inches away from its plate. "What happened?"

LynZ didn't even look at her. She needed to listen to this. She needed to know as much as she could.

Amanda sat down on the couch behind her, still naked, and watched the coverage for a few minutes. Eventually she said, "This was you?"

LynZ let out a long breath. "Close enough."

Amanda let her watch for a while longer before saying, "LynZ."

LynZ shuffled backward on her hands and butt until she could lean against the couch. "It was the group I was involved with," she said, still not looking at Amanda. "I didn't actually do it, but I knew it was going to happen and I didn't tell the authorities, so they'll hold me responsible. No one died, but it'll count as attempted murder. If they catch me, I'll be in prison for a long time. Not that flimsy parking-ticket prison. Real prison."

Amanda slid off the couch and sat next to her, silent for once.

"He's doing awful, bullshit things," said LynZ. She didn't like how defensive she sounded, but she didn't stop talking. "He's working to get us federally banned. Not gay marriage, gay _sex_. He's writing religion into the legislature. And no one was paying any attention. No one would have noticed until it was too late."

Amanda kissed her.

LynZ was too surprised to react. It was deep and passionate and over quickly. Amanda kept her face close, breathing on LynZ's lips, looking into her eyes.

"I didn't think you even knew whose jumpsuit your hand was down on the truck," whispered LynZ.

Amanda grinned. "Oh, that was you?"

The doorbell rang. LynZ's heart sped up. Amanda hopped up and headed for the door, still wearing nothing. She checked the peephole, then laughed loud as she opened the door to reveal Gerard.

He didn't even seem to notice Amanda. He stared right past her to LynZ, like she was the one who was naked. "It was you," he said. "I saw it on the news. They said you were linked to the bombing."

Amanda moved a few inches to her right, obscuring his view of LynZ with her boobs, and said, "So?"

"So I want to come with you," said Gerard. He stepped around Amanda and into the apartment, looking at LynZ again. "I want to help. This is where change is happening, wherever you are. Whatever you're doing, I want to be part of it."

"I don't really have a plan," said LynZ. "I'm going to leave here, because it's not safe for Kitty, but I don't know where I'm going or what I'll be doing."

"I do," said Amanda suddenly. They both looked at her. "I know what you'll be doing," she said. "You'll be standing in front of windows with the blinds open. We'll catch their eyes and duck away and they'll come looking for more, and everyone will start paying attention. If you want people to care, you have to tell them a story."

She was smiling like she'd just found her purpose in life, and so was Gerard. LynZ squeezed her eyes shut. The news report was still chattering away about the bombing, painting her as a terrorist, and Amanda was right. If LynZ hid now, the attack wouldn't carry any meaning.

She picked up Amanda's jumpsuit from the arm of the couch, balled it up, and threw it at her. "Put on some fucking clothes," she said.

***

The judge examined the final pages of Pete's file. Pete shifted uncomfortably in his seat, waiting for her to finish.

"It says here that you got in a fight on your first day of incarceration," the judge said. She peered over her glasses at him, judging like it was her job. Which. Well.

"It wasn't my fault, Your Honor," said Pete hurriedly. "I didn't pick any fights. I didn't even fight back."

He caught a twitch of her cheek and tried not to scowl petulantly. Clearly the whole incident was described right there in front of her, and she was just fucking with him. It was kind of mean, but he could forgive her. As long as...

She stamped the paperwork. "Don't go making any more trouble out there," she said.

 _Yessss._ "No ma'am, thank you ma'am," said Pete eagerly.

Mikey was waiting for him in the visitors' lobby. Pete leaped on him, wrapping his legs around Mikey's waist and enthusiastically reintroducing their tongues. Mikey made a "mmph" noise, but didn't drop him.

Pete buried his face in Mikey's neck. "Missed you so much," he mumbled against Mikey's skin.

Mikey squeezed him tight, then led him out the door and over to the car. Pete let go of his hand just long enough for the two of them to get in, then grabbed it again. He needed to make up for lost time.

The tamagotchi was dangling from the rearview mirror. Pete touched it. "Is he still at the house?" he asked. They'd been trying not to discuss Ryan during visiting hours, in case anyone overheard.

"Yeah," said Mikey. He pulled out of the prison parking lot. "We should talk about him, figure out what we want to do."

Pete stared at the passing cars, at the field next to the road. It was strange how normal it all felt, like the world had been on pause while he was behind bars and it was just now starting to move again.

"I don't want to kick him out," said Mikey. "I like him."

He never sounded very emotional, but Pete's ears were Mikey-trained, and he could hear the concern. "We're not gonna kick him out," Pete reassured him. "I like him too. We'll work it out, don't worry."

Ryan was nowhere to be seen when they got to the house. Pete felt panic rising up in him until he opened the bedroom door and found him on his knees, naked, sucking on a dildo. When Pete came in, he looked up and opened his mouth, letting the dildo slide out.

"Oh, yeah, he does that," Mikey said, coming up behind Pete. "Do you want him to suck you off?"

"I don't know if we should," said Pete, trying to ignore Ryan's slick, parted lips. "What are we gonna do, just keep him here as our permanent sex slave or something?"

"It's not like that," said Mikey.

"Do I get any input in this?" asked Ryan. "Because I'm cool with the whole permanent sex slave concept. I'm, like, one hundred and twenty percent down with that plan." He knee-walked over to Pete and wrapped his hands around Pete's thighs, looking up at him, waiting for permission.

It was still taking advantage, but as long as Ryan wanted to be taken advantage of, Pete could live with it. He didn't want to be wearing these clothes, anyway. They were the clothes he went to prison in. He kind of wanted to burn them. He pulled his shirt over his head.

Ryan took the hint and popped the button of his jeans faster than Pete had ever seen anyone open a pair of pants from the front. Mikey circled Pete's waist with his arms and started to kiss his neck. He dragged his lips down the line of Pete's tendon and along his shoulder, leaving a damp trail that turned Pete's skin cold.

Pete shuffled over to the bed, bringing them along with him, and toppled over onto his back on the mattress. It felt impossibly soft after such a long time sleeping on a shitty cot. Mikey crawled on top of him and kissed him thoroughly, running his hands over Pete's skin. Pete felt Ryan's lips against his dick and reached down to drag him up onto the bed too. He cupped the back of Ryan's head with his hand and kissed him, barely aware of the transition between Mikey's mouth and Ryan's.

Ryan pulled back, glancing at Mikey. "Is that okay?"

In answer, Mikey leaned in and kissed him too, open-mouthed, with tongue. Ryan made little whimpering noises every time Mikey licked into his mouth. Of course it made sense for the boy with the oral fixation to like making out. Pete curled one hand around Mikey's hip and stroked Ryan's back with the other, watching them kiss, feeling his cock harden with anticipation.

Mikey's lips moved back to Pete's, and Ryan started licking down Pete's body, sucking his nipple to hardness along the way. Mikey was lying half on top of Pete, still dressed, pants unzipped and flapping open. Ryan nosed in between their stomachs, pulled out Mikey's cock, and wrapped his lips around both of them.

Pete gasped. Ryan couldn't take them very far in at the same time, but just the feeling of his tongue slipping between the head of Pete's cock and Mikey's was hot enough. He tried to pull Mikey's shirt up and Mikey rolled away to take off his clothes, leaving Ryan's mouth free to take Pete all the way down.

Mikey came back a moment later, naked and clutching a bottle of lube. He gently nudged Pete over onto his side, squeezed out some lube, and started fingering Pete. They hadn't done this in two months, but they'd had years before that, and Mikey knew exactly how hard to push.

"Fuck me, Mikey," said Pete. He was going to come soon, and he wanted Mikey in him when he did. "C'mon, now."

Mikey did not hesitate to comply. Ryan clenched his throat tight around Pete's cock right as Mikey slid in, and Pete cried out a little from the combined sensation. Ryan grabbed Pete's hand and put it behind his head, and Pete obediently pushed him down onto his cock. The control over the blowjob pushed him that much closer to the edge, and when Mikey bit down on his shoulder, Pete couldn't hold back any longer. He pulled Ryan back by his hair and came all over his face. Ryan closed his eyes and smiled through it.

Pete tugged Ryan's arm until he came back up the bed and kissed him. Mikey was still thrusting into Pete, getting faster and louder the way he did when he was close. Pete took Ryan's cock in his hand and jerked him off, kissing him, running his tongue all around the inside of Ryan's mouth, and Ryan moaned like he was being fucked. Mikey and Ryan came almost at the same time, Mikey just a few seconds behind, and the three of them collapsed in a pile on the bed.

No one moved for a long, long time. Finally, Ryan lifted his head to look at Pete and said, "If you don't let me be your permanent sex slave after that, I will _cry._ "

"If you don't let him be our permanent sex slave after that, I will _break up with you_ ," threatened Mikey.

Pete laughed. "No crying," he said. "And definitely no breaking up." He pulled Mikey's arm around him from behind, and wrapped his arms around Ryan. "We can keep him."

After a few minutes of comfortable snuggling, Ryan said quietly, "Thank you. I really don't know where else I would go. I probably would have ended up turning myself in, and there's no way they'd believe that I didn't mean to escape."

Pete grinned. "How did that even happen, anyway?"

Ryan shook his head. "Don't ask me. All I know is that chicks in prison do not fuck around."

***

Amanda careened down the water slide, screaming at the top of her lungs. LynZ watched from the side of the pool, shaking her head. She turned to Gerard. "Did you get the photo?"

He tilted the phone so she could see the image on the screen. It showed Amanda in her orange jumpsuit at the top of the slide, arms thrown wide, head tossed back, laughing like a maniac.

"Good one," said LynZ. "Okay, tweet it. I'll see if I can get her to finish her Marco Polo game with those kids over there before the fuzz shows."

Gerard started typing with his thumbs. LynZ turned back to the pool, where Amanda was spending time they didn't have playing with four-year-olds. It was a truly, sweetly, obnoxiously Amanda thing to do, and LynZ let her do it for a few more minutes before yanking her out of the pool. She'd located some real makeup to draw her eyebrows on, but it had all washed off in the water.

"Time to go," said LynZ. Amanda spat a mouthful of water onto LynZ's tits and flashed an enormous grin. LynZ didn't bat an eyelash. She just took Amanda's hand in one of her own, and Gerard's in the other, and led them back to the car.

They walked quickly, just quickly enough, but they didn't run.


End file.
